


All Dragons are Royal

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: After her mother's death Princess Amanita longs to move on with her life while her father is so focused on his grief that he is unable to let her until a dragon that the Princess has befriended comes up with a plan.





	All Dragons are Royal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meru/gifts).



> I was in a dragon mood and the title came to me before I had much of an idea for the fic and I liked it so much that I had to do something with it.

The lightning blasted cliffs stood as ragged black shadows against the bruise colored storm clouds hanging heavy in the sky. Amanita watched as a jagged blue trace work of lightning illuminated the cold gray stone of the mountains, thunder followed seconds later, the echoes rebounding off the mountains again and again, blending in with the next rumblings. Beneath it the faint hiss of rain against stones could be heard as the storm blew in. It was a fearsome sight and fitting for the mood she was in. Her father was in one of his rages, all too frequent since the death of her mother, the Queen, and she had fled to her chambers to watch the storm rather than risk becoming the target of his anger. She missed her mother badly, and at first she had pitied her father, understanding that a love like the one that her parents had shared was rare, but in time that pity gave way to frustration. She was hurt by it, the whole kingdom was, but she was making an effort to be strong, to move on, to make her mother proud, wherever she was. Her father on the other hand had sunken deep into depression, becoming increasingly temperamental.

His latest rage was brought on by her lack of worthy suitors, meaning suitors that he found worthy. Several of the princes, respectable young lords and wealthy nobles had struck her as particularly fine choices with their ambition and exotic both magical and mundane. Yet none of them pleased her father and he was taking it out on her. Traits he had once prized in her were now flaws.

The streak of white in her hair, a witch lock as her mother had called it, had been an auspicious thing, a sign that she would, in time, be a powerful sorceress as well, but the spark of magic had yet to awaken in her, though her blue eyes did flash green when she was angry.

The wild beasts in the lands surrounding the castle feared her, something she had witnessed firsthand, when escorted by a band of trusted knights, she had accompanied her mother deep into the woods for one of her mother’s, rituals. Amanita, not yet having magic of her own, had not been able to participate, but she had watched and learned, saw the fire her mother spoke into turn green and strange things rise up in the smoke.

It was one of her mother’s rituals that killed her, binding a minor demon to serve as an assassin had gone astray when something more powerful clawed its way into the circle. Her mother had been able to banish the entity, but had exhausted her powers and been gravely injured. She had languished for nearly a month, testament to her strength, as the blackened wounds continued to seep blood despite the efforts of the greatest alchemists and healers.

When the Queen died the whole kingdom went into mourning.

And the King redoubled his efforts to get Amanita married and found all suitors wanting.

Which was a shame, for she’d found Vakhtang, oldest son of a lesser noble House, and accompanied not by knights and attendants, but a pack of lean and fearsome wolves nearly the size of bears, to be quite charming. Her father had not been impressed and when the young man made his offer, a strange and cryptic promise of making Amanita a Queen of the beasts and wilds, the King had sent him away despite her protests. She’d found his stories of the wild land he called home to be fascinating, but her father had insisted that she could do better, be given to some prince who would further grow the power and influence of their kingdom.

She had come to believe that it was not about finding her a worthy husband, but that no many would ever be worthy as her father did not wish to lose her to marriage as he had lost her mother to death.

The storm arrived in all its fury, wind driving rain into her chambers, but she kept the window open.

There was a reason for it and soon enough her waiting was rewarded.

Over the sound of the thunder and rain something could be heard, a flapping like a banner left out in the storm, but there was a pattern to the noise and soon enough a lithe and twisting silhouette was illuminated by a flash of lightning.

A dragon, its iridescent green scales slick and steaming from the rain came into view and, after circling only once, latched onto the side of the tower. The size of a horse, but with the body of a great cat, it was fearsome and predatory looking.

Fearlessly it stuck its head, adorned by horns and fins, into the window and looked at her with eyes like molten gold.

“Human Amanita,” it hissed in greeting, its voice a grass dry crackling.

“Dragon,” she replied with a small smile. Its actual name was impossible for her or any human to pronounce, and she had no qualms about its unorthodox manner of addressing her. When it had first shown up, back when she was traveling with her mother, it had refused to bow to the Queen, proclaiming that all dragons were royalty and as humans they should bow to it. A word of power from the Queen had not been enough to put it in its place, but it had been impressed, declaring the two of them to be ‘most brilliant gems’ and flown off. Since then it was a regular sight circling the castle, occasionally landing to watch and rarely speak.

A long black tongue snaked out from between yellow fangs, “Come closer. I want to see if you taste salt.”

It was a joke. The creature had no concept of human expression or emotion, but it did seem to show some concern when she was sad and now it wanted to see if she was.

“I’m fine,” her smile grew wider.

“You show teeth!” it laughed, “That is so dear. Only you and your kin would snarl to greet. No wonder you fight your little wars so quickly.”

“You know what a smile is,” she reminded.

The dragon responded by mimicking the gesture, its mouth falling open to reveal rows of curving fangs, “Come closer though, in the rain and the wet you are cold. I am warm.”

It was a very unsubtle creature, but she supposed that a creature like it had no need of subtlety. Besides, it claimed that it was still young and in another hundred autumns it would be grown and large enough to carry away horses.

She didn’t know if that was true, for dragons were rare and kept to themselves, but she had read stories.

This dragon was not like the stories.

When she approached the window it licked at her hand like a dog, its tongue hot and rough. There were times it acted like an animal, but she knew better to regard it as such.

Watching her intently it withdrew its tongue and snorted, blue smoke trickling from its nostrils. Hauling itself up a little higher, clinging to the window ledge with thick, blunt claws, almost hoof-like in their appearance, it regarded her with an unreadable expression.

“Has your father married you off yet?” it growled softly.

It visited often enough that it knew about her predicament as she had confided in it as she would a friend, for the dragon was a friend. Her only friend at this point. She didn’t understand why it visited, but she was glad it came.

“No,” she smiled bitterly, “None of the suitors that come will ever be good enough for him.”

The dragon’s mouth lolled open in a smile “That is good.”

“Good?” she took a step back, “You don’t understand. With mother dead I feel trapped. Father never lets me leave anymore. I’m stuck here day in and day out, the arrival of suitors the only thing to relieve the monotony. If I could leave with one of them, any of them I’d have a chance, but father will never let that happen. He’s afraid of being alone, I can understand that, but I need to have a life of my own. A future.”

“You do have a future,” it licked its fangs, “Human Amanita, most shining of jewels, little thing so pretty and so smelling of magic, I have spoken with my grandfather, a king of kings, older than this castle, and he agrees. I am young and foolish he says, welcome to my short childish diversions he says.”

The dragon leaned in farther, eyes glinting conspiratorially, “He says this because he is that old.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied, arms crossed over her chest. The dragon beckoned with a clawed paw, but she remained where she was, wanting to know what it meant before she came any closer. This particular dragon hadn’t done anything to harm her yet, but they were a dangerous breed, unpredictable.

The dragon let out a soft hiss of laughter, “He says I am permitted to take a first wife as young as I am so that I may outgrow it by the time I am old enough to know better.”

A gust of wind caught the dragon’s wings and it pushed back from the window, laughing as it flew away into the night.

She pondered the meaning of what it had said, but was unable to make sense of it, or understand why she should care that it had plans to marry young. The next time it came she would press it for an answer, find out why it had said such things. It likely hadn’t meant to mock her situation, but it felt that way and she couldn’t help but feel a most irrational stab of jealousy, not that the dragon had plans to marry, but that there was someone it wanted to marry and that it had been given permission to do so.

Then, three days later, it returned, not clinging to her window or skulking about at night, but walking up to the castle gate in the company of a man in brightly colored, flowing robes of a strange cut.

Curious as to who it was traveling with and why it had done such a thing she rushed down to greet it before her father could send for her or tell her to remain in her room.

The dragon stood up straighter at the sight of her then crouched low, looking cautiously up at the man. He was so old, his face so deeply lined that it looked like a statue carved from driftwood. She had little skill for sensing magic, but she was able to feel it radiating off of him like heat from a blazing fire. Perhaps he was a wizard come to offer his services to her father?

The old man inhaled deeply and looked down at the dragon, “I can accept this.”

Her father arrived a moment later, accompanied by his knights and guards.

Nodding gravely the old man addressed the King, “My grandson will take your daughter as his first wife. In return I will not tear this castle down and char the rubble to dust.”

One of the knights rushed forward and a mere glance from the man reduced him to a charred husk, armor melting as the body hit the ground.

“I do not play human games,” the old man’s voice deepened, growing louder until the echoes seemed to shake the very ground, “My grandson is taking the girl.”

“Where is your grandson then wizard?” Her father scowled, “You come here and make threats on his behalf, but he won’t show his face?”

The young dragon took a step forward, glanced back at the old man, waited for a nod from him and then hissed with pride, “I show my face, I claim my wife.”

Amanita watched her father grow pale, “You are a dragon and you…”

“Are a dragon,” the old man growled, “Your ancestors built this castle on my mountain, but the range was large enough that I did not care. I may begin to care.”

Caught with losing her or losing his life and his kingdom, Amanita could see her father was weighing his options.

The young dragon strode boldly forward, wings held high, “This is a fine thing, is it not?”

Weighing his words, the King made his decision, “An alliance with the dragons would not be such a bad thing.”

“A dragon,” the old man interrupted, “My grandson.”

“Still, a dragon,” her father spoke quickly, “And my daughter has powerful magics in her, inherited from her mother. Perhaps she would learn them best from you.”

At this the old man smiled, revealing a mouth full of blackened, predatory fangs, “Very powerful. My grandson may be capricious, but his nose is good. I will gladly teach your daughter of the magics of dragons if she can learn them and, if not, I will teach her those of the low folk which I know she can. The smell is there.”

Amanita looked at the dragon, then to her father and then back to the dragon. Taking a step forward she reached out and placed a hand on the dragon’s head, between its curling horns, “Thank you.”

It growled happily, “For a human you are a rare thing. The first and finest treasure in my hoard.”


End file.
